


Keep Your Nifflers Stowed Under The Seat In Front Of You

by Xanoka



Category: Cabin Pressure, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animals Loose, Crossover, Fandot Creativity, Gen, MJN Air, MJN's Rodent Problem, Nifflers, Nifflers on a Plane, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8664574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanoka/pseuds/Xanoka
Summary: MJN might have a Rodent Problem.  Unless their latest passenger has something to do with it...?  Written for the prompt 'Fantastic'.





	

 

He’s about Arthur’s age, maybe a little older, with messy black hair and glasses and a retiring smile.  It makes Arthur sad to see, like the man’s learned to expect losses in life, and so would rather not show his cards, thank you very much. 

Arthur tries to make up for it with his biggest smile, which turns the little smile into a slightly bigger one and earns him a quiet hello.

What a nice man. 

“Welcome aboard MJN Air!  My name is Arthur, I’ll be your steward for your flight, in-flight this evening!”  He holds out his hand for the passenger’s boarding pass, a formality really, since he’d hired out the plan, just for him.  The man stares for a second, then seems to realise what he’s expecting and performs the familiar Passenger Fumble for his document.  He even waves his passport at Arthur, like some passengers do who don’t fly often.

“Thank you! Can I take your bag, sir?”

Usually passengers are all too eager to offload their luggage on him, but Arthur doesn’t mind, and he’s especially willing for nice, quiet, shy passengers like this one.  In his experience, shyness is like being cold.  It needs to be smothered in warm things, like smiles and blankets and helping, until you can’t feel it anymore.  Arthur smiles harder, just in case.

But the passenger, Mr Potter, according to his boarding pass, just grips the handle of his tiny holdall more tightly.

“No, thank you.”  He grimaces, like he thinks he’s being rude. (Arthur’s face might have fallen a little.)  “It’s very fragile.”  He explains in his quiet voice.

Well, that’s all right then.

“Righto!  Let me show you to your seat, sir.”

Arthur ushers him down the aisle and waves to indicate the overhead compartment.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to help you with your bag?”

Mr Potter looks up at the compartment doubtfully.  He even chews his lip a little, before looking at Arthur apologetically.

“Would it be all right for me to keep my bag down here with me?  Please?”

Arthur hesitates.

It’s not technically allowed.  Handbags and briefcases are allowed under the seats, of course, but according to Airline Safety Procedures, larger items are meant to be kept in the compartments.  Mum was _very_ clear on that after the Madrid Incident.  But Mr Potter is looking so hopeful, and he has such a general air of tiredness…

“Oh, all right then.  Just pop it under the seat in front, and don’t tell my Mum!”

Mr Potter smiles his brightest smile yet, and Arthur goes away to the galley feeling warm inside. 

* * *

 

The feeling doesn’t last.

They’re about an hour into the flight when he sidles up to Mum.  She sees the look in his face and sighs loudly.

“Yes, Arthur, what is it?”

“Mum, do rats live in airplanes?”

She stares at him.

“I should certainly hope not.  _Why_ are you asking?”

She’s glaring at him like she thinks _he_ might have brought one on board.

“Well, it’s just that while I was taking the drinks trolley around, I think I saw something move.  Under the seats.  Something little and kind of scamper-y.”

She looks alarmed for a second, and drops her voice.

“What?  Are you sure?”  She sounds so serious, his pulse picks up, even as something in him swells with a sense of importance.  He leans in, like they’re Rebels plotting to bring down the Empire.

“I didn’t see it properly, but there was definitely something there.”

Mum nods, taking him seriously, and the swelling thing grows a little more.

“Arthur,” she says, looking him in the eye, like she’s trusting him with the Fate of the Galaxy.  “I need you to just act normally.  Don’t say anything to the passenger.  Don’t let him know.  But keep an eye out, all right?  When we get back to Fitton we can call Pest Control.  But we can’t let the passenger find out.  Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

She looks a little doubtful, but leaves him to it anyway as she heads for the cockpit.  She’ll probably consult with Douglas.  Arthur would.   And Douglas would probably know just what to do about the mice or rats or whatever. 

_Flying mice_ , his brain supplies.  And although the situation is very serious, Arthur can’t help grinning as he commando crawls under the seats.  They’re technically flying mice, because they’re in the air.  Which means he’s also a flying human.  Does that make him Superman?  He’s a flying human who helps people.  He’s definitely Superman.

Riding that train of thought, he almost misses the flash of fur as something scurries past.  Luckily, his body seems to be more alert than his brain is.  Unluckily, he lunges uselessly, cracking his head on the seat above him.

As the stars clear from his vision, Arthur becomes aware of a pair of feet stopping next to him, then Mr Potter’s face appears as he crouches by the seat.  He looks even more tired than before, and stressed, little lines on his forehead and his mouth turned down, like he’s worrying about something.  But he manages to look sympathetic and concerned nonetheless.

What a nice man.

“Are you all right?”  He asks.  He doesn’t ask why Arthur’s under the seat, or express any surprise at all, like he frequently crawls around under things.

“Oh!  Yes!  I’m brilliant.  I’m just, uh, looking for something.  Don’t worry!”

A corner of Mr Potter’s lip lifts, reluctantly, like he’d said something funny.

“Me too,” he admits.  “I didn’t realise… my bag was open.”

“Oh no!  Did you drop something?  Wait, I’ll help you look.” 

He starts to wriggle out, but Mr Potter’s hand on his shoulder forestalls him.  He’s looking a little desperate now, the way people do who’ve not slept for a long time and keep having problems.

“Oh, no.  It’s fine.  It’s –”

He stops as a flash of black fur speeds past and they both dive for it.  Except Arthur’s still half under a seat, so he kind of flops, like a beached whale.  But it’s enough to intercept Mr Potter, who lets out a puff of air at the impact and collapses on top of him.

He mutters something, which sounds like “Merlin’s hairy balls” and rolls onto his back, glances over at Arthur.

“Sorry.  I think I squashed you.”

“It’s OK.”  But the cogs of Arthur’s mind are turning.  Mr Potter was looking for the rat too.  So maybe _that_ was the thing he was looking for.  Without thinking he blurts out:

“Is it _your_ rat?”

My Potter looks panicked, and Arthur is forcibly reminded that he was _not supposed to mention the rat to the passenger_.

“It’s… something like that.”  Mr Potter takes a deep breath and looks him squarely in the eye.  “Look, I know I’m not supposed to have a… pet with me.  But do you think you can help me?  I need to catch it before we land.  And _please_ don’t tell your mother.”

Arthur nods vigorously, and thinks about saying something smooth, like “I won’t if you won’t.”  But Mr Potter’s already crawling away on his hands and knees, looking under all the seats.

“He likes shiny things,” he explains, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out a locket of some kind.  He lets the pendant drop to the ground and jiggles the chain, like he’s trying to tease a cat.  Arthur is in the process of shuffling closer when something moves and he freezes.

There’s a tiny face, peeking out from behind one of the seat legs in the opposite row.  It has a long pointy snout, and it blinks little black eyes at them, then darts forward to grab the pendant.  Or would have, if Mr Potter hadn’t scooped it up smoothly.  He ignores his captive’s indignant squeak.

“Awww, it’s cute!” 

It’s definitely not a rat though.  Its little paws have long claws.  Coupled with its snout, it looks a bit like a mole crossed with a shrew.

“He’s a trouble maker,” Mr Potter corrects.  “Aren’t you, Fred?”

The animal squirms, like it understands.

Mr Potter is smiling now, the Smile of Deep Relief and Problem Solved, tinged with something sadder.

“He’s a Niffler,” he explains as they knee shuffle back to Mr Potter’s seat.  Arthur nods and tries to look like he knows what that is.  Mr Potter’s mouth quirks and his eyes are warm as he glances over his shoulder. 

“Thank you for your help, Arthur.”

Arthur beams as Mr Potter pulls out his bag.  It shakes, like there’s something inside it, trying to get out.  Arthur feels his eyes go wide.

Mr Potter looks at him very seriously and reaches over with his free hand to grip Arthur’s reassuringly.

“Arthur.  I think I should tell you, I have some more animals in my bag.  But I promise they’re safe.  They won’t get out.”

He waits for Arthur to nod, squeezes his hand, then unzips the case, raising the top carefully, like he’s expecting something to jump out.  Nothing does, so he drops the Niffler inside gently, before zipping it up again. 

It’s a little anticlimactic, really.

Mr Potter seems to notice his deflation, since he hesitates, then leans forward conspiratorially. 

“I really shouldn’t, but, if you like, I can show you some of my other pets?”  His tone suggests he’s letting Arthur in on a big secret.

He nods eagerly.  “I won’t tell!  No one would believe me anyway!” 

Mr Potter does not seem surprised to hear that.

Instead he grins back and opens the case, leaning aside so Arthur can peer into its depths.  There’s only one word for what he sees.

“Brilliant!”


End file.
